Forgive me, but… I stand, energy suddenly returning. Pick...

Forgive me, but… 

I stand, energy suddenly returning. Pick my coat off its hook and pull it on, its familiar weight swirling around me.
John looks at my feet. “Socks?” he suggests. “It is November.”
“Is it?” I look at my feet, too. “Perhaps.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Perhaps socks, or perhaps it’s November?”
“Both.” I disappear into the bedroom to put something he will consider appropriate on my feet as he puts his jacket back on. I come back with both socks and shoes on, pulling on my gloves. 

(Excerpt from Pattern Behaviour)